PART TWO

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Suddenly he woke up...but he didn't know if he was Chuang Chou who had dreamt he was a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he was Chuang Chou.
-Chuang Tzu

Cole and Lonnie ambled in the direction of the Presidio, following Lonnie's idea to take advantage of the clear weather and her rare free time. Cole, no fool, decided this was indeed an intelligent course of action and remained in happy post-lunch silence, linked arm-in-arm with the girl at his side. Earlier argument forgotten, the day looked like it would turn out well.

A young woman, head studiously bent and arms crossed against her chest, walked towards them. Though Cole shifted away to avoid her, the distracted woman still bumped into him. Her head jerked up.

"Watch where you're – oh god."

"Erm, hello, again," he said. It was undoubtedly the same woman he'd saved from the cab earlier, now wearing a more appropriate if ill-fitting dress. Her temper didn't appear to have improved.

"Are you kidding me?" she said. Before he could say if he was or wasn't, she repeated the same question to the sky. "Are you freakin' kidding me?"

Cole traded a bewildered look with Lonnie and wondered if perhaps the woman had more than just a bad temper and was instead disturbed.

"Maybe – maybe we should go," Lonnie said, hand tightening on his arm.

The redhead ignored her and continued to ask questions of the sky. "What did I ever do to you?"

"I think that's an excellent idea," Cole said and the couple began to inch their way around. The redhead, finally noticing her victims' attempted escape, stepped right back in front of them.

"Wait a second, where are you going?"

"Miss, I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else," Cole stated as evenly as possible. She was clearly suffering from delusions and though he couldn't quite say what, something about her struck him as...wrong.

"If only," the redhead muttered. "Look, and believe me when I say I'm never gonna live this down, but do you know where Prescott Street is?"

Her pendulous swing between emotions left Cole struggling to keep up. "Pardon me?"

"I'm lost, okay? The city's changed since, um, since the last time I was here and I got lost and yes, I'm deeply embarrassed about that, so could you please tell me where Prescott is so this conversation can be over with that much more quickly?"

Before Cole could answer, Lonnie stepped forward and pointed to the correct side street. "There. Three blocks down, turn left onto Washington, and it's maybe another half mile until you reach it."

"Oh. Well, thanks." The redhead looked nonplussed, as if she hadn't actually expected Lonnie to answer. She turned to follow the directions, stopped, then turned back toward Lonnie. "No, sorry, I can't let this go. Look, you seem like a nice, normal person and I don't think it's fair not to warn you about your boyfriend, here."

Cole frowned. "Now, see here, miss-"

"Hey. So not talking to you right now." She turned back to Lonnie. "He's not what you think. Nasty secrets, major dark side and let's not even get started on the trust you shouldn't be having."

"That's enough." Cole interposed himself physically between the two women. "If you persist in harassing us, I'll call a police officer."

The redhead responded with such a look of contempt that he couldn't possibly understand what he may have done to her to earn it. "Gee, only using the law when it suits you. What a surprise."

Cole felt his anger fraying, just below the surface, calling up his demonic instincts. He'd already half-raised a hand, an electric charge pricking at his fingers and ready to form into a weapon at a moment's notice, when Lonnie stepped forward. She gave the redhead her most imperious glare.

"I don't know who you are, but my life is none of your business," she said. "I think we'll be leaving now."

Matching action to word, she seized Cole's arm and all but dragged him away, leaving the redhead to huff in angry indignation behind them.

"Who was that woman?" Lonnie demanded after putting some distance between them.

"I swear, I wish I knew." His temper had dissipated, but it left behind a profound sense of disquiet.

"An unfortunate from an asylum, perhaps." The statement came out as more of a question than not. Cole gave her a tight smile.

"In all likelihood. Just some poor, deluded girl."

Whom he was trying to reassure, he couldn't say. But he couldn't shake the certain, dismaying knowledge that the red-haired woman knew precisely who he was. What he was.

And the fact that he had no earthly idea how she may have come by such knowledge left him shaken indeed.

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Paige should've known her luck wouldn't last, especially since she'd barely been on speaking terms with it in the first place. The decision not to orb and walk home instead had seemed like a fine idea (no point in pushing her abilities when she was still unsure how far they could take her) but after her second – second! – run-in with Cole and the reckless risk she'd taken in warning the girl off, her mood had turned from pensive to sullen.

Stupid time travel, stupid Cole, and stupid her for getting into this mess in the first place.

It was with some relief that she started to recognize the neighborhood she now walked in. The city had changed a great deal over the course of the twentieth century, but the residential area around Prescott at least bore a passing resemblance to its modern incarnation. Her sense of relief grew when she spotted the familiar façade of the Manor, although at this point it was painted a sky blue rather than the maroon she was used to.

She stood staring at it for a moment, debating how she should best handle the situation. What if her dates were wrong? What if there wasn't any help to be had? Then again, if she never found the nerve to walk up to the front door at all, those questions really wouldn't matter. She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and approached.

Before she could even raise her hand to knock, the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman with graying brown hair.

"You're late," the woman snapped.

Paige blinked. "Uhhh..."

"Oh, for pity's sake, girl, get inside. You look ridiculous." Before Paige had any idea what was going on, the woman had grabbed her arm and pulled her in, slamming the door shut.

"Dear child, you have no idea the complete mess you've created by coming here," the woman continued, forcefully escorting Paige into the solarium and placing her in a deep, wing-backed chair. "The uproar in the community – oh, now, where's Betsy? Betsy!"

A plain-looking girl in a maid's uniform appeared in the kitchen doorway. "You bellowed, ma'am?"

The other woman glared. "If this were any other household, you'd be fired for that remark."

"Then I count myself lucky I'm in this one, ma'am."

"Hmph. I'd think your time would be better spent holding that tongue and taking out those dresses we purchased for our guest here."

"Should I put on the tea afterwards?"

"Yes, thank you."

The maid, Betsy, nodded and left. Paige, reeling from recent events and the strange interplay between employer and employee, continued to sit, somewhat stunned, as the woman turned her attention back to the Charmed One.

"So." The woman stopped and frowned. "Sit up, girl." Paige did so. "So, what in the world were you thinking when you created that spell?"

This outright acknowledgement of her magical abilities snapped Paige out of her stupor. "Okay, time out. Who the hell are you and how do you know anything about me?"

The woman sighed and gave her a look that clearly questioned her intelligence. "Your knowledge of your own cultural history is severely lacking, isn't it?"

Paige narrowed her eyes. "I was adopted. And I'm not answering any questions 'til you tell me exactly what's going on."

The woman seemed to stop short of rolling her eyes, resigned to the task of enlightening Paige. "My name," she said, "is Gertrude Mayweather. I belong to one of the more prominent San Francisco covens, although I'm not so active in it as I once was. However, I bear a certain talent for divination which was how I knew of your imminent arrival as well as your origins."

"So, basically, you get visions."

Gertrude looked a little insulted at the remark. "That does little to adequately describe the nature of my abilities. But if you so wish to oversimplify the issue, then yes, I 'get visions.'"

"Wait, wait, wait. Your last name's Mayweather. I thought the Warrens owned this house."

Gerturde frowned. "A New England family, correct?"

"Originally, yeah."

"Say 'yes,' dear, not 'yeah.'" Gertrude ignored the dirty look Paige gave her. "And presumably, yes, they will own this house in the near future. Since the covens have managed to establish themselves here, a witch has always owned a plot of land over this spot in order to insure the Nexus is protected. You do know about the Nexus, don't you?"

Paige bristled at her tone. "Yes. I'm a not a complete moron."

"That has yet to be seen. You've been mucking about in time. I can't possibly imagine what possessed you to do something so foolhardy."

Paige sighed. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Betsy returned at that point, bearing a delicate china tea set on a tray. She distributed cups to the two other women, leaving the tray to rest on a side table. "Anything else, ma'am?"

"No thank you, Betsy."

"Then if you don't mind, I have some business to take care of at the train station."

"Ah. Go right ahead, then."

Betsy turned and left once again. Paige blinked at her retreating back, still trying to wrap her mind around anyone even having a maid, let alone one that didn't seem at all shy about trading verbal barbs with her employer. Gertrude cleared her throat, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand. "Regardless of why you may have thought temporal magic was a good idea, you are here now. And it's most prudent of us to find a way to send you back before linear time is thoroughly thrown off-course."

Paige looked down into her teacup, grimacing. "I already tried my return spell, but the jasper necklace grounding me broke."

"Was this in the original spot where you first performed the spell?"

"I did that in the attic here." Paige pointed above her head. "But I'm always displaced to another location anyway and it's never mattered where I've tried to recall myself before."

"Hmmm." Gertrude took a sip of tea before setting her cup aside. "Was there anything unusual about the spell this time? Anything different?"

"Not really. Although..." Paige paused, frowning thoughtfully. "My aim's usually a little off my target date but this time I missed by nearly three years. That's weird, isn't it?"

"If I understand you correctly, yes, it may be. It had never happened previously?"

"Well, it was the longest jump I ever made, so I thought that could account for it. But even so, the most I'd ever missed before was by a few weeks."

Gertrude tapped her finger on chin. "Peculiar, indeed. I suppose it's possible you were caught in a ripple."

"A what?"

"I've never seen it personally, but I've read of it in certain spellbooks. A traumatic physical event that causes waves in the magical world. It could be you were caught in such a ripple, throwing you off course and stranding you in the wrong year. It could also explain your inability to return to your own time."

"So what type of trauma could do that?"

"Man-made, sometimes, if there's a war. More often it's a natural disaster: floods, earthquakes, destruction of that ilk."

Paige often admitted she wasn't the swiftest person around but she did like to think herself capable of making some decent deductive decisions. And so it was the word 'earthquake' that sparked off a neuron that collided with another, then another and another until it reached one that bore a very specific date.

"Oh my god." Her cup slid from suddenly numb fingers. "I know what it is."

Gertrude's eyes strayed briefly to the fallen cup before reaffixing on an ashen Paige. "Know what, dear?"

"The big traumatic event," Paige whispered. "On April eighteenth, three thousand people are going to die in the worst earthquake in San Francisco history."

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By the time Cole arrived at his mother's house early that evening, he had pushed the incident with the peculiar red-haired woman to the back of his mind, halfway convinced that she was indeed simply an unfortunate soul who suffered from some strange sickness of the mind. He handed the housekeeper his coat, asking, "Is my mother here?"

"She's waiting for you in the sitting room, Mr. Turner."

"Thank you. Be sure to turn down my bed. I'll be staying here this evening."

"Yes, Mr. Turner, of course."

Cole approached the sitting room with a certain amount of caution, a learned response to his mother's often strange behavior. After nearly eighteen years of her sole influence, he could still never quite tell what would earn him a reward or a reprimand.

She sat on the chez-lounge looking toward the door as he entered. She remained there as Cole walked over, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. "Good evening, Mother."

"Cole." Elizabeth Turner, ever formal, simply gave him a small smile. She shared the same curly black hair and facial structure with her son but where his eyes were the color of sky, hers were an unfathomable black. Lines in her face and grey at her temples gave her the appearance of a woman in her middling years, though this wasn't any true indication of age. Like most demons capable of human form, Elizabeth was gifted with a lifespan measured in centuries and a youthful exterior. However, their return to San Francisco had required a subterfuge for the benefit of their mortal neighbors, accomplished by a simple glamour. When she stalked the halls of the Underworld, the glamour vanished and Elizabeth appeared as young and as powerful as ever.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" Cole asked.

"Oh, not me, darling," Elizabeth said. Cole grimaced inwardly. His mother had an unfortunate habit of assigning him pet names depending on what affectation she'd decided to adopt. Recently, it was either 'darling' or, worse, 'dearheart.' "No, we have a guest."

Cole looked to where she indicated and had to stop himself from starting in surprise at the man who melted out of the shadows by the mantle. Wearing a smart sack suit in black and bearing receding brown hair, he regarded Cole with small, shrewd eyes. Raynor. Leader of the Brotherhood of the Thorn and Cole's childhood mentor. "Hello, Cole."

"Sir." Cole straightened automatically, hands falling to clasp behind his back. Raynor rarely came to the surface without cause and Cole had to wonder what would bring his one-time teacher here.

Raynor, seeming to sense Cole's unease, chuckled. "Don't look so worried. This is purely a social visit to inquire after my favorite student."

His words were meant to comfort but Cole knew him far too well to relax. "Of – of course, sir."

"Cole, really, have a seat." Cole followed the request, though it really should have come from the owner or son of the house, rather than their self- satisfied guest. "How go your studies?"

"Well, thank you."

"University of San Francisco, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"He'll make Dean's List again this year," Elizabeth added. It was at once pleasing to hear his mother's confidence in his abilities and rankling that she would assume the outcome of his studies two months before the semester was over.

Raynor raised one eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

Cole couldn't shake the feeling that Raynor was subtly mocking him. "Yes, sir."

"Still planning to pursue law, then?"

Cole, frankly, had no idea what he planned after graduation, though law sounded as good a plan as any. "Probably, yes."

There was a moment of awkward silence, Cole staring straight ahead, his mother and Raynor staring at him.

Raynor cleared his throat. "So, your mother's been telling me of this girl you've been courting."

Cole barely stifled his sigh. "I can't say that surprises me."

"Now, dearheart," Elizabeth said. "You know I only want you to achieve all you've been working so hard for. This affair is troublesome."

"If I recall correctly, it was you who encouraged me to pursue it in the first place," Cole said, irritated. "'All the better to know the intimacies of humans,' was it not?"

"Cole, really, I believe your mother has a right to be worried," Raynor said. "This girl is no one, a half-breed immigrant. Surely you could find someone with a little pedigree."

"It is my personal life," Cole spat back.

"One which you are dangerously close to destroying," Elizabeth said. "There have been some utterly atrocious rumors-"

Cole gave a derisive snort. "Human gossip? Since when did you ever care about that?"

Elizabeth's lips thinned. "They may be humans but they hold power. You know it's all that matters. You should be pursuing that and not some tailor's daughter."

Cole rose. "I've heard enough."

"Cole-"

"No. I have been loyal – more than loyal to both you and the Source and have earned my right to keep any woman I so choose. I'd appreciate it if you would kindly quit meddling in my affairs!" He stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Elizabeth stared after him for a moment before sinking back into the chez-lounge with a sigh.

"Why couldn't he have inherited his father's taste in wine instead of his stubbornness?"

Raynor shook his head, more amused by the family dysfunction than perturbed by it. "He's a young man out in the world. A little rebellion is only natural."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Better we should never have come back here. At least when we lived in London, they had the good sense to recognize the separation of classes. Here the influence of the humans on him has grown most vexing."

"But then, he'd be useless as an operative if he weren't so knowledgeable of them," Raynor pointed out. "I wouldn't fret so much. Certain events will see him return to the fold soon enough."

"Do you know something I don't?"

"Only that the Seers have been especially smug in recent days. Something big is coming."

"Any idea what that might be?"

"Not yet but I'm sure I'll ferret it out of them soon enough." Raynor smiled in such a way as to suggest that ferreting would involve a great deal of pain for whoever might be reluctant to share information. "Either way, now or later, Cole will come back. He can fight what he is for only so long."

"I wish I shared your confidence."

"He's your son, Elizabeth. No matter what his father was, our Cole is a demon through and through."

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END PART TWO